


your heart is your masterpiece (and i'll keep it safe)

by shafferthefirst



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: And there's cuddling, Canon Compliant of 3x09, Descriptions of wounds, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Little bit of Fluff, not particularly graphic but just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 17:52:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5384858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shafferthefirst/pseuds/shafferthefirst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning safe and sound, Fitz unintentionally comes across Jemma's wounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your heart is your masterpiece (and i'll keep it safe)

**Author's Note:**

> This is very brief, nothing particularly spectacular, but it was picking away at me so I wrote it to take my mind of the horrible final I had this morning. Plus it's something I'd like to see because I am very concerned about Jemma's torture.
> 
> No worries, nothing particularly graphic here.
> 
> Title is from I'll Keep You Safe by Sleeping At Last

She's dosing off on top of his bed covers when he finally emerges from the bathroom, spending the last however long it was scrubbing away every last piece of evidence of his twelve hour trip to Hell. Jemma snaps out of her spell when the door reveals him clad in his favorite pajama pants and a faded t-shirt and greets him with a sleepy smile. Her impromptu almost-nap was unintentional, wanting to wait up for him, but sinking into the mattress after a day wasting away in her own, very different, distinct form of personal hell (the one without him), was too much for her exhausted mind and body to not give in to.

Fitz towel dries his hair and brushes his teeth before joining, slipping under his duvet and pulling her side down to grant her access into the softness of it too. Nose to nose from the lack of space with the two of them sharing a twin sized bed, she takes advantage of their close proximity and runs her fingers leisurely over his jawline, grinning as he relaxes into her touch and planting a soft kiss on his eyelid.

He basks in the sensation for a moment before snaking his arms around her waist and closing the small gap between their bodies. Letting out a pleased sigh from the welcoming contact, she cuddles closer, burrowing her face in his neck for the second time in twenty-four hours, as if to hide herself away from the bad in the world, and he cradles the back of her head in encouragement, lips pressing against her hairline and tracing soothing patterns against the skin on her back where her sweater has ridden up.

It feels like the first full breath they've both taken in a while, probably since _her_ dramatic return from Maveth not to long ago when they held each other with aching arms for the first time in half a year. When warmth flooded both of their veins and relief cleansed them of every mistake made up until that point with its gentle wave sweeping over in the rubble. And the same content, near dizzying feeling washes over them both now.

That is, until his tracing pattern absentmindedly moves to her abdomen and she hisses sharply, unconsciously angling that part of her body away from the contact. His eyes fly open and the easy haze settling around them dissolves as he sits up abruptly.

"Jemma, what-"

"It's _fine_ , Fitz," she murmurs. "Don't worry. Lie back down."

He belatedly fits the puzzle pieces together and his chest tightens, looping another layer into the knot he thought already disappeared. 

"I-" 

"Fitz, please, it's just-" 

"Can I see?"

His request takes her by surprise when it really shouldn't have, but she nods. After rolling onto her back, she slowly eases up the hem of her sweater inch by inch until her fresh patch of harsh bruising are laid bare for his eyes only, and he gasps. Scanning over the area, he swallows hard at the sight of dark purples and deep greens blurring together like it was painted on her abdomen with watercolors, occasional clips and cuts roughly the size of the one on her cheek scattered about the surface of her skin. His gaze moves to her face and his breath hitches; her eyes have never looked this raw and vulnerable, even before her recovery. She's completely exposed. 

"What did they do to you?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper. 

"I'd rather not revisit it."

"It shouldn't have happened."

She sets her mouth in a thin line. "A lot shouldn't have happened. But it did and there's nothing we can do about it."

He succumbs the sudden urge to run his palm gently against her hip and up her side, far enough away from the bruises for it not to hurt her but close enough that his intent is clear, and she visibly relaxes at the returned touch of his skin against hers.

"Fitz, please just leave it be. They'll heal soon enough."

He starts to protest until he sees the tears welling up in her eyes. Stopping entirely, he leans down to press a small, featherlight kiss to the center of her molten skin before sliding her sweater back down and laying beside her once again and her heart swells in her chest at the intimacy of it. She curls up to him again and he hesitates, but still carefully wraps his arms around her.

"You're the bravest person I know." He breathes more than says into her hair, and feels her smile against his clavicle.

"And you're more than that."

She tilts her head up to meet his mouth for a soft, slow kiss in the dimmed light of his bedroom and that fuzzy feeling consumes them once more.


End file.
